Understanding
by MintSauce
Summary: He wasn't someone Stiles had ever really thought of before. He'd never thought about him in any way other than: one of Derek's new wolves. Simple as, right? Wrong, because it meant Stiles wasn't expecting it in the slightest when they managed to come to some sort of understanding. One-Shot. R&R pretty please! Stiles/Isaac


Stiles had never given much thought to Isaac beyond the fact that he used to be quiet and now he thinks he's a badass. He never even got to the point where he felt sorry for Isaac because of what his Dad did, because by the time Stiles found out about that, Isaac was already acting like a douche and Stiles thought that feeling sorry for him would just be wasted emotion. So he didn't.

Stiles didn't give much thought to Isaac before he saw him get shot. Before he saw his body crumple as the wolfsbane bullet tore through his shoulder. And Stiles knew it was wolfsbane from the way that Isaac screamed. Another bullet hit him in the leg and Isaac just whimpered and tried to drag himself along the floor. It was pitiful and it was sad and all Stiles could think was: _where the fuck is Derek?_ Because if Isaac died, it would be Derek's fault, completely and totally and without a doubt.

He didn't know why he did it. Not completely. He thought later maybe it was because he had a bit of a thing for saving werewolves' asses. It seemed like that was all he ever did anyway. But at the time, Stiles didn't even think. He just saw the hunter walking towards Isaac, gun raised to put a bullet in his skull and end it, and what did Stiles do, Stiles slammed his foot down onto the gas pedal.

It didn't even bother him in the slightest that the hunter, that a _human being_ had just flown over the roof of his jeep, but that could have had something to do with the fact that he was steadfastly refusing to think about it. He opened the passenger door to his jeep and stared down at Isaac where he was lying crumpled on the floor, barking, "Get in," as soon as their eyes met.

And for a stupid second, Stiles would have said they were sharing a moment. The sort of moment where they were both only just realising that the other existed. It was weird and then it was broken.

Isaac whined low in the back of his throat as he dragged himself up into the jeep and Stiles was slamming into reverse before he even had the door shut properly. The smell was horrible and familiar and it rekindled memories of Derek asking him to chop off his arm that Stiles really didn't want to think about. So he didn't. He didn't think about it and he didn't say a word as he broke every speed limit known to man getting Isaac to his house.

By some stroke of luck, the hunter wasn't following them and Stiles had this horrible moment where he wondered if maybe he'd killed him by hitting him with a car, but then he remembered that the guy had been willing to put a bullet in a sixteen-year-old's head, so maybe the point was moot. By the time they were staggering through the front door, Stiles counting his lucky stars that his Dad was working the late shift, he was pretty much carrying Isaac. He had the werewolf's uninjured arm looped around his neck and Stiles' arm was around his waist and for some reason all he could think was that Isaac should weigh more. He wasn't all that heavy.

"Why are you helping me?" Isaac gasped out through his gritted teeth when Stiles was hunched over his leg with a pair of tweezers trying to fish out the bullet. Isaac had already carved the one out of his shoulder with his claws and really, Stiles didn't need to see that again _ever_, because that had hands down been more disgusting that what he was doing now.

But Stiles could suck it up because he may not be particularly fond of Isaac, but that didn't mean he wanted the guy to bleed out on his carpet. That would just be far too difficult to explain to his Dad for one thing.

"Maybe because I'm just a good person, have you ever considered that?" Stiles replied, desperately trying to ignore Isaac's choked off howl of pain as he finally dragged out the bullet. It reminded him of playing Operation with Scott when they were younger; and _damn_ if that memory wasn't tainted forever. "Not all of us are cold-hearted enough to let someone die just because they turn furry once a month and I generally like to consider myself quite a werewolf friendly person, so just do me a favour and stay there while I go fetch some wolfsbane to detox you with."

Because yes, Stiles had wolfbane in a shoebox in a bag in his garage. It was for these sort of occasions. Except he had always been under the impression he'd be doing this for Scott rather than one of Derek's social rejects; but hey, he wasn't going to be picky with who's life he saved, because as he'd said to Isaac, Stiles was far too human to be that cruel.

Watching Isaac writhe and scream was probably worse than watching Derek do it and Stiles couldn't even explain why. He couldn't explain why it bothered him so much. Why it bothered him to the degree that he grabbed Isaac's shoulders when the worst of it seemed to have subsided and pulled him against him. And for whatever reasons, Isaac didn't even bite his head off. In fact, he curled into Stiles' body, pressing his face into Stiles' chest and whimpered, his enter body shaking with aftershocks of what he'd just been through. His hands were fisted in Stiles shirt, pulling them closer and Stiles didn't know when he started absently running his fingers through Isaac's hair, _petting him_, but he didn't stop even when he noticed when he was doing.

They fell asleep like that, completely entwined, with Isaac's head pushed up under Stiles' chin, but when he woke up, Isaac was gone and he was laid out on his bed. Isaac had even cleaned up the remnants of blood and that horrible black stuff that he'd puked up in the beginning. And Stiles was oddly touched by that fact, because not even Derek had ever shown that sort of consideration. It had always been a case of taking what help was needed and then leaving Stiles to deal with the debris and the evidence.

There was even a note stuck to Stiles' forehead, because apparently that had been the wisest place to put it. It simply said _thanks_. Nothing more, nothing less. Just thanks. But again, that was more than Stiles even got from Scott sometimes and he found himself smiling before he could stop himself. He smiled and tucked the note into the drawer in his bedside cabinet and that right there was the first time that Stiles really ever noticed Isaac Lahey.

He felt like an idiot for not doing so before.

School was the same as it had always been. Stiles didn't talk to Isaac and Isaac didn't talk to Stiles, but their eyes would meet sometimes across the room and Stiles would think that they were having a moment like before. There was a sort of understanding that crackled between them now. It wasn't friendship, it wasn't anything, it was just understanding.

Stiles had helped Isaac out and both of them had noticed each other for the first time, it was that sort of understanding. It was strange, but it wasn't anything that Stiles couldn't deal with. It wasn't anything _that_ out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary was the way that Isaac decided to return the favour.

Erica was standing in his room, one of those horrible smiles stretching her lips as she stared at him and he groaned inwardly. "If you're here to knock me out, can you at least not harm my baby this time?" he asked, his shoulders sagging as he met her eyes.

"I'm not here to knock you out Stiles," she said in that sickly sweet voice that made him want to shoot himself in the head or something, "I'm here to bring you in, you're going to be out bait."

And that was why fifteen minutes later Stiles was being manhandled into the abandoned warehouse place that Derek's Pack had decided to call home. "Nice place you got here, I'm starting to think you have a bit of a fetish of old decrepit places, Derek, all you need now is a burnt piece of furniture and it's complete," he said as he was shoved down hard onto the concrete floor, skinning his knees in the process.

He whipped around to glare at Erica and by the time he turned back around, he had someone standing in front of him. Except, it was with their back to him. Isaac was crouched low, fangs out and arms spread wide as he faced Derek, a snarl tearing its way out of his throat.

"No," for someone who wasn't looking completely human, his voice was surprisingly clear, "You're not using him."

And because Derek was all for talking with his eyebrows rather than actual words, he said nothing and just arched one of his eyebrows in the universal signal for, "_What the fuck?_" Obviously Isaac hadn't told his Alpha and his and Stiles' little sleepover the other week.

That eyebrow flew up just a handful of seconds before Derek batted Isaac aside and hauled Stiles up and that was how Stiles ended up being used for bait anyway. It made him feel a little better that Isaac had tried to stand up for him. Isaac who was left slumped unconscious against the warehouse wall.

And later, after it was all done and Stiles had been tied to a tree for several hours, the kamina had been lured out because apparently it had a bit of a thing for Stiles and Derek had had his ass handed to him by said kamina, Stiles was wandering back in through his front door, not even bothering to be quiet since yet again his Dad was working the night shift. He grumbled under his breath as he tackled the suddenly massive task of climbing the stairs about _stupid, big-headed, self-righteous werewolves with a leather fetish who apparently couldn't understand that repaying someone for saving your ass didn't involve tying them to a tree._

He was just muttered out the last part when he reached his room and saw Isaac standing there near the window, his eyes wide and orb like. He had blood matted into the side of his hair where his head had hit the wall and he looked like shit if Stiles was being completely honest. Also, Stiles really wasn't in the mood to be having any sort of conversation. He just wanted to go to sleep and for a minute or so be left alone to pretend that his life was completely normal.

His anger at the fact that couldn't happen dissipated instantly when the first words out of Isaac's mouth were, "I'm sorry." And they looked at each other and there was that understanding again, tethering them together like something physical and solid and Stiles wouldn't be able to tell you later which one of them had moved first. They met in the middle, hands clawing at each other, slipping under clothing to paw at flesh and sliding into hair, nails scratching against scalps and moans being choked out of the both of them as their mouths crashed together. It was messy and sloppy and all Stiles could taste was Isaac and peppermint and what he strongly suspected was a hint of blood. But he didn't care, because it was addictive and perfect and it was everything he hadn't known he'd needed.

It was his first kiss and it wasn't with Lydia like he'd always imagined it would be. It was with Isaac and he had Isaac's hot, hard flesh underneath his hands instead of soft curves and he was running his fingers through short blonde curls instead of long strawberry blonde ones. But none of it mattered. Because this, this thing between them, whatever was happening. It was understanding. It was solid, unshakeable and completely uncontrollable understanding and Stiles felt like maybe his eyes were opening for the very first time, like he hadn't been living before that moment.

But that maybe wasn't such a bad feeling actually. Not such a bad feeling at all.


End file.
